Lady's Ransom (The First Argentines, #3)

“I wish you’d been with us,” Baldwin said. “Sir Bryon also regretted your absence. I’m not being disloyal when I say that Benedict was foolhardy on many occasions. He was so determined to prove himself, like he was competing with your shadow. ‘Reckless’—that’s the word that comes to mind. But he has the Lady’s favor, for even though he did some foolish things, no harm came to him.” He shook his head regretfully. “I think that only made him willing to take more risks.”

“He’s still our king,” Ransom said.

“I know that. But you can feel the wind blowing in your face, even if you cannot see it. What if he dies in captivity? He’s worth a hefty ransom, no doubt, but to some, he’s worth more dead. If he’s out of the playing field, whose side will you be on?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

Baldwin lowered his arm and turned to face Ransom. “Because I have no one to serve, and I wish to serve you.”

“What about Sir Dalian?”

Baldwin sniffed and shook his head. “I like the lad. But he will never be Duke of Westmarch. Or La Marche, as I’ve heard it called these days. Benedict won’t give it to him, even after he’s reclaimed it. He’ll reward his own men, those who journeyed with him to Chandleer. It’ll likely go to one of the knights in his mesnie—Kiskaddon maybe. He’s a good chap. Still, I can’t see myself serving another Duke of Westmarch after losing Sir Bryon. But I’d willingly serve you. I’d be grateful even.”

Ransom clapped Baldwin on the shoulder. “I’ll have you.”

“Good. You have two sons. I can make sure they become men.”

“They are babes still. And another is on the way. You can’t grow old on me yet.”

“I won’t if you let me train the rascals.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on sending them to Dundrennan,” Ransom answered.

Baldwin laughed. “Still that rivalry between the two of you?”

“Not as much anymore. He did me a service when Estian attacked Glosstyr.”

“It must be one of the Lady’s miracles,” joked Baldwin. “Get riding, lad. I’ll keep your brother in line.”



The journey from Kingfountain to Beestone took a day, and Ransom and his escort were exhausted by the time they arrived because of skirmishes they faced along the way. It was after midnight, so the queen dowager was abed, and Ransom went to see Simon in the Star Chamber. The room was crowded with correspondence, but it was all neatly organized now, and Simon sat in his chair writing a note.

“I was expecting you earlier. It’s only a day’s ride.”

“It can take longer with raiding parties roaming about,” Ransom responded. “I need some sleep right now. I just wanted to let you know I’m here.”

“Thank the Fountain. I’ll notify Emiloh in the morning. You’ll have a chance to sleep on the ship when we send you to Marq.”

Ransom’s brow wrinkled. Constance had named the place where Benedict was being kept, and it wasn’t the Brugian capital.

“When did you find out about Benedict?”

“The same day we sent reinforcements to you. It’s a . . . strange story. But you need your rest. I can tell you in the morning.”

Ransom leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Tell me now.”

“Longmont’s under house arrest, but he’s still pulling strings. He found out about Bennett before we did and tried to sneak away from the palace. Do you remember the Espion lass you caught in your room?”

“I do.”

“She’s my chief informant,” Simon said. “Everyone seems to trust her, but she is loyal to the throne. Longmont stole one of her dresses and a cloak and tried to leave the palace disguised as her.”

“You are joking.”

“I’m not. He made it as far as the docks when a . . . rather drunk sailor took him for a lady he could woo. By the time the night watch arrived, his humiliation was complete. I interrogated him, and that’s when the story about Benedict came out. Longmont insisted he was going to share the information after he left, and he proved his words by producing a letter he had written before disguising himself. He was hoping to earn favor by rescuing the king himself, or at least negotiating the ransom.”

Ransom massaged the bridge of his nose. “And you think we can trust the girl?”

“I do,” Simon said. “She reported her missing dress immediately, which helped us put it together. I’ve even considered sending her to Pisan for training. It costs twenty thousand livres, though, and we don’t have enough to spare, not when we’ll have to pay for the king’s ransom.”

“Do we have Espion in Marq?”

“Of course!” Simon said, pretending to be offended. “What kind of spymaster do you take me for? I’ve heard that Estian has already put in a bid. There is someone from the East Kingdoms who also bid on him. He made enemies there, as you know. Get some sleep. You won’t be staying in the palace for long.”

“I imagined I wouldn’t be. Tomorrow, then.”

“It’s good to see you, Ransom,” Simon said with a broad smile. “I think we would have lost the kingdom by now if you hadn’t been here to protect it. Estian is hitting us hard. He knows if Benedict returns, he’s a dead man.”

Ransom nodded and left, but the sentiment gave him little comfort. As he walked the darkened halls, his mind shifted to Claire. He had a powerful longing to see her again—to press his hand against her belly and feel the fluttering kicks she’d written him about. At least their separation had not been long. Since she was in Glosstyr, they were able to meet periodically, and they could send and receive letters more quickly than if she’d been in Legault. He’d written her before leaving Beestone to let her know the king was a hostage. It had been a relief to finally share the knowledge that had festered in his mind these last months.

He climbed the steps and started down the corridor toward his room, his Fountain magic alerting him to a presence within. The person who lurked there was dangerous, yet he sensed they weren’t a danger to him. Nor were they Fountain-blessed. He saw a dim light, probably a candle, shining from beneath the door.

Ransom gripped his dagger and slowly turned the handle. When he opened the door, he saw a woman pacing inside. He recognized her at once. The Espion girl.

She turned as he pushed the door open.

“I can’t stay long,” she said. “But I had news that couldn’t wait.”

He looked at her guardedly and then entered and shut the door, leaning back against it.

“What is your name?”

“I have many names, Lord Ransom.”

Her hair was darker than he remembered it. He waited for her to continue, saying nothing.

“I have a message for you from Jon-Landon.”





News from court arrived today, sent by Ransom, who is now at Kingfountain. Benedict was captured on his return from the oasis and is being held prisoner in the kingdom of Brugia. Estian will attack Ceredigion again with all his might in order to win before Benedict can be released. I think it is not unreasonable to believe that Occitania has more in its treasury than we do. Only a loan from the Genevese could tilt the scales, but will they grant it with such ill humor between Benedict and Portia? This news will embolden Jon-Landon further. He hasn’t resorted to violence yet, but I believe he will if he doesn’t get his way. We cannot afford to fight a war from within while fighting one from without. The only reason we have survived so far is because Ransom knows where the Occitanians’ attacks are coming in advance, thanks to the Wizr board, and has been able to counter them with minimal loss of life.

I wonder who Emiloh will trust to negotiate for her son’s freedom. It should be Ransom, but if he leaves Ceredigion, there will be no stopping Estian the Black. But who else could be trusted in such a dangerous mission?

—Claire de Murrow

Glosstyr

(a king’s ransom to be paid)





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE


Secret Embassy


Before you deliver your message, give me your name,” Ransom demanded of the Espion woman. “Your birth name. What duchy are you from?”

She gave Ransom a quizzical look and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Cecily of Yuork, my lord.”

“You don’t have a North Cumbrian accent,” Ransom said.

“I donna mean to disappoint thee, milord, but thou sayest wrong.”

Ransom smiled at the deftness of her ability to conceal her native accent. “You have other names?”

“Depending on where I am or where I need to be from. I have a gift for languages. Can I deliver my message?”